Sunday, November 29, 2009

Falling in love should be easyA golden ray upon my heartBut the truth is frighteningA darkness bayingWould you still want meIf I came to youWith all of my sinsCrashing around me?Would you still kiss meIf you saw what I seeIf you looked insideAnd touched the shadows there?The heat of me...burnsI don't want to burn youThe darkness grows and devoursEverything in its wakeI don't want you lost in itThe truth is that I'm changingBody, mind, and soulBecoming someone elseSo whose heart am I offering?And what will I do if you go?Could I survive you?Only God knowsBut I can't say these things to youI smile and wink and flirtAnd play the courtesanI spin my web...behind broken glassToo fragile to embrace you fullyToo in love to let you goWhat's a girl to do?When all I want is to be with you...

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Friday, November 20, 2009

He was a heavy metal nightmare. Garbed in iron from head to toe, he cleaved his opponents with a mighty swing. Axe, sword, bare hands, it mattered not. He was a beast on the field, brutal and cruel. He waged through a river of blood until he was the last one standing.

He was the son of a great warrior, their lineage legendary. A family of berserkers the villagers whispered. None dare look him in the eye. He was a feral mountain moving across the landscape, his thirst for blood never quenched. His shadow frightened the bravest of men. He drug himself from the battlefield, weary, but never showing it.

He trudged through the slain and dying. He dropped the opposing king’s head before his own king. “I’ve done my part, old man. Now do yours.” Without waiting for a response, the berserker reached a hand into the old man’s chest and ripped out his beating heart. He took a bite while the old man watched, dying slowly. The berserker threw the still twitching heart on the ground and walked away.

He was king now, his word law. But his thoughts were elsewhere.

The house was sturdy, but plain—nothing to indicate wealth or power. A stable boy collected his horse and darted away quickly. His boots fell heavy on the stone floor, announcing his arrival. “Sir, the missus is waiting for you,” a servant said in a rush. She scurried off, eyes downcast. He took the stairs three at a time, heading straight for his bedroom. He hesitated only briefly at the door. Stealing himself against the worst he pushed the door open.

She lay in the bed looking pale and worn, a tiny bundle in her arms. He stopped just short of the bed. She smiled at him and held out a hand. “Why so quiet, Love? Come here. Come meet your daughter.” His brow creased, confusion mixed with emotions he didn’t recognize. “Daughter?” His wife laughed a full beautiful laugh and his heart clenched in his big chest. “Yes, Husband. Come meet your daughter.”

He walked over and sat gingerly on the bed. “Are you…” he began, but the words failed him. “I’m fine,” she said and stroked his bloody cheek with the back of her hand. Her knuckles were soft and white and he pressed her hand against his face, closing his eyes for just a moment. He looked at the little baby, sleeping so soundly in her mother’s arms. She was so tiny, so breakable.

His wife seemed to know what he was thinking and she said softly, “You’re not as big as you think. She’s not so small, hold her. Hold your baby.” She pushed the baby into his arms and he nearly panicked. But then a strange thing happened. Wetness dripped from his eyes and he stared helplessly at the teeny creature in his arms. Arms that had destroyed, hacked and cleaved and killed, were now cradling an angel. His wife’s laugh broke the moment.

She grinned at him, enjoying his moment of weakness. “What would the people say if they saw their famed berserker crying over a baby girl!” She laughed uncontrollably and he scowled at her. “I’m sorry, Love,” she said, “It’s just so sweet.” She leaned up, wincing in pain as she did, and brushed a warm kiss over his lips. She was exhausted and had to lay back almost immediately. But his heart filled with love for her and the baby.

He stood up and walked around the room, holding the infant close. He looked out the window and told his wife, “I’m King now. The old man is dead.” He turned to look at her, but she was already asleep. Some berserker he was, ignored in his own home. He tweaked the baby’s nose and laid her in the cradle. Time to wash off the blood.

Monday, November 16, 2009

The wind is a cutting thing—a brutal force wrecking all in its path. It sears with icy tendrils, whipping hair in my eyes. Tears sting and fall, freezing on my lashes. A biting, burning cold, it ekes its way through my bones. My thighs tremble and steps falter as I wedge myself against its force.

It wasn’t always this way. There was sunlight and warmth in this place once. A deep resounding joy used to exist here. But they came and took the sun away. The Others. The ones who offered love and light and lust—they came and took. They took the women. They took the warmth. They took the sun. They left lies and loss in their wake. And cold—they left the cold.

I’m the last woman here. And I walk alone. I cling to the shadows, in hiding. The baby pressed close to my breast, I try to offer warmth. I’m willing her to live. Not to sustain our species, we’re doomed. I’m sure of that. I’m willing her to live because the mother in me refuses to let go of hope. I refuse to let her die.

She whimpers in my arms, turns her searching mouth to my breast. I turn my back to the cruel wind and open my coat enough to adjust my breast. She finds my nipple and starts sucking. I smile and wince in pain. She’s such a greedy thing. A small pink, wiggling, greedy child—I have to keep her safe. I quickly zip my coat up again.

My fingers tremble, blue with cold. I turn toward the wind again, my face raw and cracking. There’s a cave up ahead, a safe place, it’s a secret passageway in and out of the monastery. It was a sanctuary for the monks before the Others came. I remember playing here as a child. I remember their chants. I remember the carnage. I fight the twinge of pain the memory brings. The image of the monks falling one by one, not fighting, just falling in quiet protest has stayed with me all of these long days. They laid down their lives with dignity.

The young men from the village hadn’t been so quiet. They’d fought. They had wanted to live, to mate, to marry. But the Others needed women. They needed fertile women to repopulate their planet. So they came and lured ours—then stole those who couldn’t be tricked.

Save me. I saw the evil in their words, the selfishness in their eyes. Seers always know. I watched them cut down Saul. I watched his blood fall. I watched his eyes glass over and go dark. I felt his child kicking in my womb as if she knew. I buried him under our tree. I covered his beautiful body with jade colored rocks. I sang our old songs. But I didn’t cry. He was gone.

I ran away. I stole into the hills and ate berries. I turned to our old ways. And I watched from a distance as the Others raped our world, murdered our men, and took our women. I called on the heavens to help us. But no answer came. And then one day the Others took our sun and left. They loaded their vessels and I watched their glowing lights get swallowed by the darkness.

The animals are dying. The plants can’t thrive in this dark cold world. It won’t be long before there’s nothing left to eat. The few survivors in the village are already warring. I had a vision of horror. I saw them killing each other and cooking the meat off their brothers' bones.

Our species is so fragile, so prone to despair. They lash out when they should draw together. But it matters not. We are doomed, the Others saw to it. I climb the rocks leading up to the old monastery. I see the statues of the monks' God. It’s a God I never served, but I bow and nod in respect anyway. I pray She will keep us safe.

I go to the food stores and find grain. Good. Praise be. I run frozen hands over the squirming lump sucking me dry. I’m so tired, so alone. No. I’m not alone. I have Rayanna. I smile to myself and pat her soothingly. There’s enough grain to last a good while.

I go looking for items to burn, to give us warmth. Bed linens, curtains, any cloth or wood that’s dry enough will do. I create a pile in the great hall. I light it with a match. Soon warmth fills the space. I unzip my coat and hold Rayanna close to me. She smacks her tongue against her gums making little slurping sounds in her sleep. My sweet angel. I rock her slowly and sing softly to her. I kiss her forehead with cracked lips.

We’ll sleep here tonight, next to the fire. But come morning I’ll move us and the grain to the cave. No one else knows where it is. So we’ll be safe there. And it’s deep in the ground with natural warmth, a hot spring flows through it. The monks used it for ceremonies, believing it to be sacred. But nothing’s sacred anymore. The deities have abandoned us.

I brush away a tear. I’ll not mourn for old ways lost. I’ll not mourn at all. I hold my baby closer and kiss her once more. I’m so tired that I’m asleep before I know it…

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Iggy--I forget his dimensions, but he's large as well. I like working on a large scale. I want to do a mural someday. Anyway he's acrylic and India ink on stretched canvass and paper. The blue section is tissue paper over blue paint. Lots a fun, old Iggy.

This is a painting of Patti Smith and some imagery from her songs...I'm not finished with it yet. I need to re-work the flowers and church. But it's interesting. I have a weakness for color, lol. Latin blood, what can I say?

I apologize for the wacky angles. I had to take it outside and prop it up to get some decent light. It's rather large: oils on a 40"x50" canvass.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Friday, November 6, 2009

Tears streamed down her face and pain raked rancid claws along her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. This mind-fuck was destroying her. Her heart lay bloody at his feet, a gaping wound in her chest. She knew better than to fall in love.

She’d avoided it for years. She’d convinced herself that she could live without it. But then he’d come along and pursued her. Told her so many things, gave her hope, and before she’d known it—she was in love with him. She was a fool. She was a stupid, stupid girl, to trust the man so completely, to believe the dream he had painted. Why had she ever believed she could have happiness?

Hadn’t life kicked her in the teeth enough before? After everything she’d survived it was criminal to be this naive. The reality was that she was a mother and couldn’t afford to cry her eyes out and lose her mind over Sammy. Either he loved her and would come to his senses or he didn’t and she would come to hers. Only time would tell.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Have some pride, AliceJust stay on the path and you'll find him eventually

The Cheshire cat is a bitchSwirling smoke and spinning lies

Come have tea with the Mad HatterClean up the March Hare's vomit

Sop up the messChange your party dress

What happened to the white rabbit?He's typing furiously, preoccupied

Wander aimlessly, AliceTake a bow drama queen

What happened to the sun?It's so dark here in the rabbit hole

Paint your lips into a joker's smileReally shouldn't have eaten the shrooms

Dance around to wild tunesChase the Mad Hatter and March Hare around the table

Gleeful giggles of the half insaneSo much fear and pain

"She was always a sensitive girl"Pull the ribbons from your hair

Grown women behave with dignityStop acting like a spoiled child

Dig a foothold and climb out of the rabbit holeSlip and fall and try again

Fuck the Queen of HeartsShe's just a dirty whore

Sit at the bottom and see the sun so far awayA tiny ray at the top of the rabbit hole

Cry and cry and cry the ache awayWelcome back Alice

Hope you enjoy your stay.

*** I'm having one of those days, not fit for human interaction. My apologies. Maybe I'll just lose myself in NaNo for awhile...think I could muster up something ugly today, lol. My poor characters, good thing they're imaginary. ;D

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Monday, November 2, 2009

The creature slithered across the landscape leaving a black ooze in it's wake. The wildlife were eerily quiet as the traveler stalked his prey. The beast absorbed everything in it's path, drawing debris and living organisms alike into it's bulbous form.

The stench of decay was nearly tangible as rolled over the traveler's tongue. He'd smelled the thing before. Fought it before, none of this was new to either of them. He knew what tricks the creature preferred, but the traveler was ready for them this time.

Slowly the traveler closed in and used the stench of the beast to cover his own scent--giving him the advantage of surprise. He pounced near the thing, careful not to touch it, lest he be devoured by the ravenous beast and drove the spear into what must be it's back. There was a popping sound followed by a hiss and a new depth to the noxious fumes as black gas poured from the beast.

It slithered to a halt and turned it's empty sockets toward the traveler. "You," it garbled through the filth and trash and remains protruding from it's body. The traveler tipped his hat politely and replied, "always."

The creature laughed and the objects forming its body shifted until a lone skeleton fell limply forward. Her once raven hair hung in muddy strings, the flesh long since decayed from her bones, but she still wore the tattered dress he remembered. The creature caressed her face...or where her face should have been...and growled to her, "awaken."

Slowly her bones began to crack and creak as they moved. She made a soft hissing sound as she extracted herself from the monster's belly and she walked toward the traveler on unsteady legs. Her once beautiful yellow dress swirling around her ankle bones. "My love," she hissed and reached for the traveler. Her gruesome, fleshless smile a mockery of the beauty she'd been in life. Her decayed hands wrapped around his shoulders and she croaked, "give me a kiss, pet."

The traveler's chest tightened, his love for this woman unyielding, but he'd been prepared for this trick. Delilah was long gone and this rag doll was naught more than a puppet. Still...he embraced her one last time and danced with his dead bride. Tears streaming down his face, he waltzed her to the edge of the clearing. And quick as a flash he spun her round as he had before the beast had come and stolen her away. As she spun he doused her with gasoline and tossed a match at her. He sobbed as the night sky lit up with her burning bones and filled with her shrieks.

Then he ran at the monster and pummeled it with grenades. He dove into the underbrush and rolled down the hill, his old bones cracking as he rolled over fallen branches and rocks. Just as he reached the bottom an explosion racked the countryside. Birds burst, squawking, from the trees. He smiled, knowing he'd done it this time. The thing was surely dead.

He climbed up the hill and ran into the woods, gagging and covering his face as he went. Decay and filth and rot sagged in the air, pressing against the traveler's lungs. But the beast was blown to smithereens! He laughed out loud, not caring that his lungs were rasping and struggling to breathe in the sludge polluting the air.

With a flourish, he bowed and tipped his hat to the smoking embers and goo that remained. His heart was whole again, his vow to his Delilah finally fulfilled. She was free of the monster. She was his again. He turned on his heel and walked away.

As the sound of the traveler's retreating boot-steps shrank in the distance a small glob of goo inched it's way toward a pile of ash. The earth gurgled and moaned and purged itself of the beast. And slowly, unknown to the traveler, the creature began to re-assimilate.